Tea or coffee?
by beautybeholderx
Summary: David begins to feel the ache for a woman he barely knows, who also is not his wife. Set after episode 1x06.


"Tea or coffee David?"  
>He preferred tea. Even before anything had happened, he never told her that he hated coffee. The taste, the smell, everything about it. But every single time the question left her lips he felt as though he needed to respond with coffee. She loved coffee, and he couldn't change the norm for his wife, could he? After all that she had just endured?<br>His fingertips traced the edge of the counter as his eyes stayed with them, not moving to meet her own he could feel watching him now.  
>"I'll have whatever you're having," he replied gently as she began to busy herself with the task of preparing enough coffee for the two of them.<p>

She liked tea, didn't she? One afternoon he could have sworn she was sitting at the diner with the trail of a teabag coming from her mug.  
>David hadn't enough time to investigate before she saw him and promptly busied herself with the book before her, conveniently hiding her face in the process. Not that he blamed her in the slightest; she was not his wife. Instead she was in the kitchen, fuelling another of his lies that he didn't have the courage to change.<br>What was the point? She'd begin to lecture him as she always did. Circle him like a vulture, her finger pointed out as her voice to raise higher in volume, her eyes ablaze with accusations.

With his head pounding already that was a situation David was avoiding at all costs.

It felt as though his marriage was eaten away with lies, that was how it always was with them. He would hold back, she'd keep secrets, separating the two of them late into the night. David couldn't even remember the last time they sat together and laughed, or had a conversation that didn't end with her storming out of the room. If they weren't arguing they were sitting in the same room, doing their own tasks.  
>He was living with himself, mostly. She was merely there as a roommate. Someone he shared his bed with. Looking into her eyes he didn't feel alive, he didn't feel anything. They were hollow. Kathryn had moved him from her heart months ago.<p>

Looking into the eyes of her however; that was different. It ignited something in his heart, a warmth that he hadn't felt ... well, that he had never felt before in all his life. She made him want to change, she made him want to do something to win her.  
>It was her heart that made him want to pursue. That beautiful, loving heart she was hiding away so carefully. His hands found a phone book as he thumbed through it, the names rushing back different memories as he sighed quietly.<br>Mary Margaret Blanchard.  
>The name practically jumped out at him as he closed his eyes briefly, a picture of her clouding his mind for a moment. Taking in a slow breath David's eyes looked out the window for a few moments.<p>

"One cream, one sugar, just how you like it."  
>Her cold lips left a lifeless kiss on his cheek as she walked back to the kitchen, sitting before her computer. Her computer that she spent more time with than her husband. Sighing quietly the young man set the mug down onto the ledge of their bookshelf.<br>That word was so foreign to him. Their. His suitcase he'd packed was still in the corner of their bedroom, untouched, none of the items removed.  
>All Mary Margaret had to do was say the word and he would fight for her. Use all of his strength and energy to get her to be his. How could he of not seen her before? When marrying the woman he knew was now a mistake, not seeing her dark eyes from across any room?<p>

Leaning his arm onto the window his forehead rested underneath it, eyes searching the front lawn silently. A figure was walking by as he stopped, feeling his breath stop in his chest.  
>There she was.<br>Her fingertips were running along their fence, as her eyes stayed downcast onto the sidewalk. Even in the moonlight she took his breath away. Without even realizing it his free hand came to the glass, fingertips touching the glass – a part of him wishing more than anything to have those trailing fingertips in his own hand. To have them close to him, the other holding her tea as they strolled together.  
>It was in this moment her eyes moved up to his own, both pausing as they stopped. David felt his breathing hitch once more as they stayed there for a few moments. Her expression twisted to the sad, longing one that she always got now when they saw one another.<p>

He opened his mouth, desperate to say something, anything. How was she? Was she going on a stroll? Did she want company? Would she even allow him to accompany her?  
>"David, who's there? The neighbor kids again?" Kathryn's sharp voice came from the kitchen, taking him back to the present moment.<br>"No, no. Mrs. Daisy, out for a walk..." he said, perhaps too quickly as he shot a quick, attempted reassuring glance towards her.  
>She merely shrugged, turning back to her computer as he snapped his head back around to find her once more.<p>

Mary Margaret was still there, her gaze moving as his eyes found her own once more. The words on the tip of his tongue as she slowly began back down the sidewalk.  
><em>Save me from this prison I made for myself, Ms. Blanchard<em>.


End file.
